


The Morning After

by L_C_Weary



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hangover, Swearing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 05:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_C_Weary/pseuds/L_C_Weary
Summary: Aimeric woke up hangover, after being clean for three month. His goddamn AA mentor, Laurent, was really just the cherry on top of his morning.





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Translating their trauma into addiction because CreativityTM.
> 
> Not first language. No beta. You can figure the rest.

Aimeric woke up sprawled out on his bed, suffocating, thanks to his own pillow. He raised his head for breathing reasons but awoke a killer headache with the motion.

His whole being was in pain. His head was actually drumming with the immense pressure Aimeric felt like he had to endure, his eyes were burning, he was lucky his bedroom was darkened by giant curtains.

He felt like dying. His mouth tasted like shit and upon realising this, the need to empty his stomach also came. He tried to run for the bathroom but he was in no condition for running. He leaped of the bed, getting tangled into his coat that was thrown to the floor, he bumped into the door frame and just got inside his bathroom before he made an even bigger mess out his apartment.

Frankly, he was disgusted with himself. And not just physically. He fucked it up. His head was spinning, dancing around the toilet bowl as his stomach was not used to so much alcohol after the withdrawal and he felt like his skin was prickled by thousands of needles.

Aimeric blindly reached out, flushed down what just have left his body and watched the clearing water swirl around with not fading nausea and hopelessness. He was going to have such a bad day, he could feel it, not even counting the physical pain, he was already a disappointment even to himself.

He knew, logically, that it happened and he would need to gather himself sooner or later if he didn't plan to really end up in a ditch, but he just wanted to bathe in self-deprecation as long as he could allow himself.

The cold tiles were wet and slippery under his knees, he probably attempted to wash his face last night and it resulted in various puddles artistically arranged on the bathroom floor, now dampening his jeans.

Aimeric watched the glinting of the marble for minutes before he felt confident enough to stand. In the mirror above the sink he could see the results of last night even clearer. He looked like shit. His skin was ashy, sweat pearling at his forehead and running down at the side of his face, his eyes bloodshot, his hair messy and at one patch sticky with something that almost made Aimeric throw up again upon touching it.

The sad truth was that he had gotten to the point, where he was proud of himself for being clean for three months, he proved so much by it and now he fucked the whole thing up, because he wavered for a moment.

There wasn't even a good reason for Aimeric to get wasted, it was just the goddamn craving that ate at his body and desperation. He should've known it was going to end like this, he was drunk in the first place because of his lack of self-control. According to Aimeric at least. His therapist had other things in mind, but as long as Aimeric payed him, he had the right to make the therapist's job difficult with his so called "denials" and shits.

He was aware that this moment was to come, sooner or later, getting clean was not a straight road, where you ignored booze and magic happens. There was a reason it required detox, meetings, whatnots. Saying this as a mantra in his head, while Aimeric washed his face, trying to get rid of the rubbery feel of his own skin, didn't help in the slightest.

Aimeric grimaced at himself in the mirror. The mantra was not supposed to be an emotional, but a logical support. It just had to make sense. It didn't have to cancel the self-hate welling up in his throat, it just had to tell it to fuck off.

He gritted his teeth, then bared it to the mirror, to gather some energy he had reserved in the  _rage_ part of his mind. He began with washing the slick liquid out of his hair. It was, thankfully, easier then he hoped. It must have been some syrupy drink and not some body fluid, it smelled faintly like strawberries. He didn't bother drying it he felt like he would need an hour long bath to cleanse himself properly, either way.

"So," came a smooth voice from the entrance of the bathroom. Aimeric's, heart leaping out of his chest, jerked his head at the voice's direction. No one supposed have a key to his apartment. But of course. "How was last night?" Laurent looked at him, voice annoyingly lacking venom. Aimeric gripped the edge of the sink significantly harder.

That fucker, Aimeric's AA mentor, was immaculate as ever. He was just casually leaning to the door frame, postured relaxed, attire perfect, the only crease his shirt had, was probably intentional. Aimeric wanted to scream. Laurent and the clear air he brought with himself, mingling with Laurent's own aftershave was invading Aimeric's delicate stomach through his nostrils.

"How the fuck did you get in?" asked Aimeric, voice harsher, than anticipated. It restored some of his dignity. Laurent pulled his brows together.

"It was open," the blonde answered. Aimeric swore quietly, turning back to the mirror. He, technically, didn't need to acknowledge Laurent. The fact that he left his own door open was more concerning. It reminded him why he wanted to get clean, in the first place.

He truly wanted to get better. That's why he let himself be dragged to detox, that's why actually gave a chance to his therapist, that's why he went to the stupid meetings too. That's why he, reluctantly, but took Laurent as his AA mentor.

He became his mentor, when they were on somewhat friendly terms, and not on those terms they were at now. It was always a difficult relationship, between AA members and their mentors, but he was only supposed to hate Laurent in moments like this. He wasn't sure what's their deal was nowadays.

Aimeric understand the power of pressure, but according to everyone, getting clean was supposed to come from one's own will, that was the only way it was actually successful. Considering the open door Aimeric was not sure if Laurent's action was counterproductive or just a bit rude.

Aimeric cleared his throat to trying to get his voice back to its regular state. Then he answered Laurent, the only appropriate way he deserved.

"Go fuck yourself," said Aimeric in raspy voice. He was still dizzy, from snapping his head left to right, the room started swimming around him. It was all Laurent's fault and his early morning shenanigans. Aimeric felt like he hated Laurent with all his fibre of his own soul at that moment.

"I'm saddened to hear that," Laurent mocked politely, in which he was aggravatingly good at.

"Don't you take pleasure in others' failing?" Aimeric countered without thinking. He wasn't sure why this hit a nerve particularly, but Laurent expression turn darker. That didn't make Aimeric as cheerful as he wanted to be for such a great achievement. Then the sourness disappeared from Laurent's face, just as fast as it came.

"Wash your teeth and change," he commanded, tone casual. "There's a new hamburger place at Marlas Square. If you're ready in twenty I'll buy you breakfast," he offer, quite uncharacteristically. 

"I'm not hungry," Aimeric answered, before even considering his own condition. Not that he emptied his stomach just minutes ago, he would probably need hours before he was able to consume something solid.

"Well," Laurent pushed himself away from the door frame. "I am, so you get a shake or a glass of water. Get ready," he ordered, leaving Aimeric alone in the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.

Aimeric turned to the mirror and took pleasure in making a face to the turn of events. He let out a sigh and reached for his toothbrush to make himself somewhat hamburger-place compatible.

**Author's Note:**

> (Find me on [tumblr](http://answermywearyquery.tumblr.com/).)


End file.
